Page 61 of Love of the Egoist
“Keys on the table. Who has the keys?”
One of the men stepped forward, holding his open hands in front of his face. The gripping gaze of his colorless eyes glared from under his bushy brows.
Kuon’s eyes searched the man’s body. His jacket was undone and the corner of a holster protruded from under his right arm.
“Go to the table and get the keys out with two fingers of your right hand. Put them down on the table and get back to the wall. Make sure I can see your hands at all times.”
The man, in a three-piece suit, did exactly as told. Kuon thought that he was good at what he did for a living—executing orders without questions. The man’s face revealed nothing as if it was made of stone. He put his hands up again and stepped back, trying not to make the detective angry.
Kuon reached the floor, still pressing the gun to the boy’s temple. The bluish vein, ticking right above the muzzle, showed signs of a perfectly stable heartbeat. In contrast, chased by adrenaline, Kuon’s ran with hellish speed.
Kuon shivered. Streams of sweat trickled down his back and torso, soaking the light denim fabric. His eyes burned with salt. His mouth opened, biting at the air in an attempt to feed his hungry blood with oxygen.
Standing on the ground floor for the first time, Kuon took in his surroundings. Guessing what to do, he stared at a discreet door under the staircase; the key sticking out of the lock.
“Greg, open that door. It’s a storeroom, isn’t it?” The gun’s barrel slithered along the boy’s temple, pushing a lock of flaxen hair from his forehead.
“Kuon, don’t do this. Let him go. You are a police officer, for God’s sake! Get back to your senses! Yugo doesn’t have to know. Let Mio go and return to your room. I promise, it will not go further,” Greg stepped forward, holding his hands high in the air.
Barking laughter erupted from Kuon’s throat, making Greg flinch and retreat a few steps. Kuon licked his dry lips and salty taste flooded his mouth. His voice sounded hoarse when he repeated his demand.
Gnashing his teeth, Greg opened the door. His eyes found Kuon’s, waiting for further instructions; his gaze full of reproach.
“Everybody, inside!” Kuon affirmed his order with a slight thrust to the boy’s cheek with the gun’s muzzle. Mio, playing his role, gave a plaintive yelp and squeezed his eyes; thin fingers crumpling his jersey. “Close the door behind you!”
The men went into the dim, small room without any protest and closed the door behind them.
Trying to control his heavy breathing, Kuon said, “Mio, go lock the door!”
The slim blond flew toward the storeroom and got back to him in a heartbeat, grasping the key in his miniature palm. On his way, he picked up the guns from the floor and grinned at Kuon.
Hastening, Kuon tucked his gun in the back of his waistband. The cold metal glued to his sweaty back. He picked up the car keys, grabbed Mio’s hand and rushed out of the house.
“Did I hurt you?” Kuon asked, holding the door open for the boy. Mio didn’t reply, he snorted, waved his palm in the air and went toward the car.
??E??
“THANK GOD, FOR A MOMENT I REALLY THOUGHTyou were an idiot,” Mio laughed, slamming the car door. Sinking into the leather seat, he stretched his legs getting himself comfortable. Tiny fingers with bluish nails rubbed his nose as he shivered. His lips parted, and he blew on his palms. Streams of his breath clouded in the chilly air.
Leaving his gun behind his waist, Kuon took the rest of the guns from Mio’s lap and threw them on the backseat. He reached forward, started the engine, and twisted the heater to maximum. The smell of gasoline and leather made him nauseous, but he didn’t open the window, eyeing the small body near him.
Hot air streams hit the boy’s face, fluttering his light, fluffy hair. Mio spread his frigid fingers, bringing his hands closer to the source of warmth; his lips stretched in an angelic smile. At that moment, Kuon realized why Yugo adored this boy, and why he would never be able to win Yugo’s heart over him.
The thought stung his heart.
When did I start caring this much? Since when did I want to name Yugo mine?
“Mine…” his lips whispered, and Mio spun in his seat.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Kuon shook his head and the car, roaring with the aggression of a hunting tiger, started off, picking up speed.
The leather seat absorbed his sweat and now rubbed the feverish skin of his back. He straightened up, trying not to touch the seat with his back. The pain spread from his nape to his left temple, eroding his brain, eating up all his thought and leaving behind only naked and wired nerve endings.
“Where to now?” Kuon asked driving out of the gates, twisting the wheel, and pulling the car out onto the smooth asphalt road.
“Maybe I jumped to conclusions…” Mio mumbled, examining Kuon’s face. “Far away from here, blockhead!”
